


Antares

by imagine_pink



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, M/M, Soulmates, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagine_pink/pseuds/imagine_pink
Summary: From the beginning to the end.OR a Sense8 AU of sorts





	Antares

The recall – now that was a conundrum. His brain had been protesting answering the recall, listing all the things that could wrong – _ did _ go wrong with Overwatch. But even in the face of his fiercest arguments, his feet had steadily made their way across to Europe and then to Spain and eventually to a shabby motel seven miles outside the rock that was known as Gibraltar. 

Jesse had spent the last couple of days canvasing the old Watchpoint. To the untrained eye the Watchpoint looked just as deserted and run down as any other Overwatch facility. The grass looked like it had not been cut in a decade, the fences a mangled mess and moss had wormed its way into every crevice of the building. 

But Jesse had not spent a quarter of his life in black ops to not know how to run an operation out of a seemingly abandoned building. Sure enough, by the second day he saw a lone truck chortle its way out of the building only to return an hour later. On the third day he managed to make out a blue light blinking its way steadily along on the outskirts of the property. 

How sloppy. 

Sighing heavily, he jammed his key card into the scanner (he was not a fan of those fancy new biometric locks – no need to be leaving behind his face or fingers when a simple card would do) before opening the door that lead to what had been his base for the past few days. The sight that greeted him inside made his face split into a huge grin. 

“Howdy, darling.” 

“Cowboy.”

Jesse grinned fondly, features softening as he tossed his hat onto the ratty mattress. 

He paused for just a second, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the other man sitting on the windowsill. The man was gazing pensively onto the streets below, one leg propped up on the sill the other drooping lazily by his side. His clothes and ribbon fluttered in the wind despite the closed window and the absence of a breeze in the room. The man tipped his head back and took a long swig from his gourd – the angle tilting his face just right to meet the warm setting sun, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and illuminating him in a way that made him seem ethereal. 

“Didn’t expect you to be here, sweetheart.”

A grunt. 

“Not in the mood to talk?”

More silence. 

Jesse sighed before rummaging in his duffel back before emerging victorious with a bottle of his own whisking. Unscrewing the cap, he gulped down a few mouthfuls to catch up with his partner, kicked out a chair and settled down for a silent drinking session. The other man would talk when he was ready.

\--------- 

The first time Jesse saw the other man – he had been seven years old. He remembered that day clearly, the hot Santa Fe sun had been beating down on the dusty courtyard that he and the neighbourhood kids had been playing soccer in. One of the kids had gone in for a goal – missed and sent the ball rocketing out of bounds. Jesse had given chase and that was when he saw him. 

The first thing Jesse had noticed was that the boy was dressed in a light blue robe of some sorts and he looked to be around the same age. He looked so out of place that at first Jesse thought he had seen a ghost – the dirt and dust had flew around him but none of it seemed to stick to his pristine clothing. The second thing he noticed was that the boy looked incredibly blank – there was a dullness and emptiness that made him slow down to a halt. 

The ball rolled to a stop near the other boy’s feet but he did not seem to notice it. Lost at what to do, Jesse had blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Hey! You wanna play?”

The boy’s head jerked around so fast that Jesse took an instinctive step backwards. The boy’s eyes narrowed menacingly as Jesse gaped, open mouthed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear his ma chastising him to shut his mouth or he would catch flies. 

The boy turned fully, taking a step towards Jesse, fury written on his face. 

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

Jesse had opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by a loud shout. 

“YO – JESSE! HURRY UP AND GET THE BALL!”

He whipped around to answer and by the time he had turned back the boy was gone. 

\--------

For the next few years, Jesse never saw the boy up close. But sometimes he would catch glimpses of the other boy. At times, he would see the other boy reflected in the shop window in place of his own but would disappear as soon as he blinked. Other times, he would turn the corner and see the boy walking down the hallway or street seemingly unaffected by the people around him. 

One notable occasion, he had seen the other boy in the middle of the road, drawing a bow and arrow – he had nearly screamed when a car came hurtling down the road, but the boy had simply flickered out of existence before the car could connect.

Jesse had been terrified that he was going insane, but when he told his ma about it, she had just laughed and called the boy his imaginary friend. As he got older he realised that it was just better to be quiet and pretend that he couldn’t see the other boy either. 

It wasn’t until he was fourteen that they spoke again. 

He had been hiding under his bed – shaking with terror. His ma had yelled at him to lock himself in his bedroom, but he could hear screaming and things being thrown around in the kitchen. He had squeezed his eyes tight, praying for someone to answer his pleas. 

“Where am I?”

His eyes snapped open and suddenly he wasn’t alone anymore. The boy, now in his teens was laying on his stomach next to him, staring at him openly. 

“You-,” Jesse took a deep shuddering breath, before wrangling the last of his control that hadn’t been lost to fear and began again, “you’re in my home.” 

The boy frowned in contemplation. 

“This must be a dream,” he said finally, breaking the silence. Jesse opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t some boy’s _ dream _ when another loud crash came from the living room. “What is all that noise?”

“Some men came in – and ma told me to go hide, so-”

“I see,” they boy said, cutting him off. “Intruders.” 

A loud bang resonated throughout the room. The bedroom door shuddered in protest as a heavy weight was thrown against it repeatedly. 

“What are we-”

_ “Quiet,” _ the boy hissed reaching up to cover Jesse’s mouth. 

There was a final crash as the door was flung open on its hinges and a stampede of boots entered the room. 

“Find the whelp – he’s gotta be in here somewhere,” snarled a deep voice. 

Jesse held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He was too young to die – there was still that movie he wanted to see, Camila to ask out – and his ma, he prayed to every deity out there that she was ok, so that he could hug her again. 

He yelped as he felt a large hand grip his ankle, pulling him out from under the bed. He was then hauled in the air by his collar and held in front of nasty looking man with a missing front tooth (later he would learn that the man’s name was Jenkins and was quite high up in the food chain).

“Well, well, well, look at what we got here boys,” Jenkins taunted, sounding like one of those villains in the cartoons Jesse watched on Saturday morning. 

Out of the corner his eye he saw the other boy scoff as if he had shared the same thought, and for a moment, Jesse felt a little less afraid. 

“You should break his wrist,” the boy advised nonchalantly, “then you need to take out the man with the gun first, leave the man with the bat last – he poses no threat.” 

Jesse gave a delirious laugh – he was pretty sure all three men standing in his bedroom posed a threat. 

“And how do I do that, genius?”

“Hey!” Jenkins shouted giving him a rough shake, “what’s goin’ on with ya? Who you talkin’ too?”

Helpless, he laughed again – how was he even supposed to answer that?

“Maybe the kid’s crazy, boss.”

“Oi! You a crazy?” Jenkins shouted shaking him even harder. “Answer me boy!”

Jesse heard a sigh and suddenly he was no longer being shaken. He felt light as he was floating – he took in the scene in front of him and gasped. He was here standing, but he was also there being held in Jenkins grasp. Had he died? Was this just his ghost watching his own body being man-handled Jenkins?

Suddenly, his body’s head snapped up, levelling Jenkins with a glare that could cut through stone. The expression was so cold that even Jenkins did a double take. That momentary lapse was all his body needed apparently because the next thing he knew, his body threw it’s legs up and wrapped them around Jenkins’ arm and neck before twisting and throwing him onto the ground. There was a loud snap and a shout of pain which resulted in Jenkins curling up clutching at his wrist. 

His body wasted no time, immediately turning to the man on the left – and now Jesse could see that the man was reaching for the gun on his belt – Jesse shouted out in alarm, but apparently it was not needed as his body took care of it by kicking the gun out the man’s hand before spinning around and delivering another kick right to his face. The man gave a satisfying thump as he fell to the floor. 

Jesse watched his body turn to the last man with the bat who was now clutching onto his bat like a lifeline. 

“Leave and do not come back,” he heard his own voice order. He had never heard it with such authority or complete certainty that he would be obeyed. 

He watched the man with the bat hastily gather up his friends and scramble out the door. The next thing he knew, he was back in his own body facing the other boy. 

“Thanks? I think?”

The other boy snorted. “It was nothing.” 

He looked unphased, like the most action movie that had ever happened in Jesse’s life was a daily occurrence to him. He wanted to ask him who he was and where he had learned all those kickass karate skills when he heard a familiar voice from downstairs.

“Jesse? Mijo?” he heard his ma shout, “are you ok?”

Jesse turned towards the sound of his mother’s voice and when he looked back, the boy had disappeared again. 

\--------

Turned out his ma had owed Deadlock a lot of money. A week later, they had stormed back into his home with more men and more importantly – more guns. The big boss had been impressed by Jesse’s fighting skills (and later less impressed when he found out Jesse couldn’t do it again but turns out he was a good shot so it worked out anyway) and offered a deal. 

Join Deadlock and work off the debt – or die. 

He remembered his ma’s tear-stricken face, screaming and begging them to let him go, promising that she would find a way to get them the money she owed. But Jesse, despite not being at the top of his class was no dumbass – he had saw the bills piled on the kitchen table and the calculated the hourly wage his ma was paid waiting on tables – stuck out his hand and accepted the deal. 

Which led him to this moment – seventeen years old and hanging out in the workshop of Deadlock’s newest mechanic. Rob was bulky in stature, dressed in leather from head to toe with an impressive white beard that covered half of his face and two more impressive sideburns. What wasn’t covered by his beard was obscured by a pair of goggles that Jesse swore he had never seen the man take off and a black helmet decked out with spiky metal embellishments. The man spoke with a heavy southern drawl and was an enigma all round but he was a damn good mechanic which probably explained why nobody in Deadlock bothered him. 

He was sitting on the work bench, shooting the shit with the old man when all of a sudden – he wasn’t anymore. 

Instead of the oppressive humidity and the scorching midday Santa Fe sun, a cool breeze blew across his face as moonlight filtered through the gaps in what appeared to be a run-down warehouse of sorts. 

There was a groan of pain to his left and Jesse whipped around to find its source. 

And there he was – the boy from when he was fourteen.

Except he was older now – having hit his growth spurt, his hair had grown longer too, face losing some of that baby fat and becoming more angular – but the most noticeable difference was the black mottling bruise that covered the entire left side of his face. 

Jesse startled – taking in the rest of the details – how the boy was bound to a wooden chair with rope, how his clothes were covered in dirt and how the normally smooth skin was littered with scrapes and cuts. 

The boy gave another groan as he stirred into consciousness, trying to lift his head and crack open his eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jesse soothed, rushing to the boy’s side and cupping his face to give him some support, “take it easy there partner.” 

The boy gave another muffled groan as he screwed up his face before snapping his eyes open, trying to force himself into wakefulness. The boy blinked a couple of times to focus his vision and after a few tries, his eyes finally steadied on Jesse’s face. 

“Oh,” the boy said in a wondrous tone, then frowned as if Jesse’s presence was the biggest disappointment to mankind – “It’s you,” he grunted, clearly displeased with this development. 

Well that was rude.

Jesse took a deep breath as he fought the urge to shove the boy away and leave him to his own misery. However, the boy had saved him when he was fourteen and Jesse was a big believer in paying his debts. 

“You’re not supposed to be here anymore,” the boy slurred, clearly still a bit knocked-up in the head – probably from whatever gave him that nasty bruise. 

“Er,” Jesse replied dumbly, not knowing what to say. But the boy appeared undeterred by Jesse’s lack of reply. 

“No matter – I will have to inform them to increase the dosage,” the boy continued, starting to wiggle in his binds – the ‘if I make it out alive’ was left unsaid. 

Before the boy could make much headway on the ropes, the warehouse door slid open with a bang as six men dressed in black suits marched in. One of them shouting orders and pointing at the boy, whilst two others from the group peeled away to surround him – untying the ropes and forcing the boy to his knees. 

If they saw Jesse, they gave no indication that they noticed he was there. 

The man who initially gave the orders strode up to the boy, using a calloused hand to force his chin up. The boy blinked sluggishly at him – still disorientated from the blow. The man sneered. 

“Your father has refused to pay the ransom,” he said evenly, looking deep into the boy’s eyes, trying to gauge for a reaction. 

“He has never been one to answer to threats,” the boy replied, equally as even in tone for someone who had just heard the equivalent to a death sentence. 

The man spat, snatching his hand back and Jesse saw the boy bow his head a bitter smile forming on his face. 

“Kill him.” 

The order jump started Jesse into action. He saw one of the remaining men unsheathe a samurai sword – of all fucking things – walking slowly towards the boy. Jesse’s heart pounded in his chest, at lost at what to do, turning to the boy for direction just like he had three years ago. But they boy was not looking at him, instead he was eyeing the sword with fear – no not fear – _ hunger _. 

Suddenly it clicked – the boy’s plan – and Jesse recalled back to that night and how easy it was for the boy to disarm Jenkins and steal his weapon. But there was no way in hell that the boy was going to be able to win against six armed men with a sword – no matter how ninja he was. 

The sword swung down, and Jesse let out a strangled scream. But the boy apparently had plans that included not dying, because he had thrown his whole weight on the man to his left – the blade slicing his arm instead of cutting his head clean off. 

The man and the boy landed on the ground with a loud thud followed by a clattering sound which Jesse greedily tracked with his eyes – _ a gun _ he realised. The boy, wasting no time, hauled himself to his feet, hunching down and preparing himself to lunge at the man with the sword – but the man had already recovered from the miss and had re-orientated himself, prepared for the next attack. 

“No!” Jesse shouted, running forward trying to use his body to block the boy from charging himself into a suicide mission. “The gun! Go for the gun!” 

The boy turned his head and one minute Jesse felt like he was floating in air and the next moment he realised he had _ mass _. 

It took a brief second for Jesse to re-orientate himself to the change in perspective and distantly, it registered somewhere in his mind that the clothes that he was wearing were not _ his _ and his hands were not _ his _ and his skin was totally the wrong shade – but all that didn’t matter because the only thing going through Jesse’s mind was – _ gun, gun, gun. _

Jesse launched himself backwards, doing a barrel roll to speed up his movement and to pick up the gun along the way. He didn’t even allow himself the time to stand, aiming his firearm as soon as he was somewhat vertical and felt the familiar molasses of time as everything took on a reddish-brown hue. 

Jesse took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. 

He could see the other men drawing their guns to aim, but Jesse was quicker. Six shots rang out, and Jesse could see them perfectly – landing in neat precision, smack-bang in the middle of each of the six men’s forehead. Jesse gave a huge sigh of relief before smirking and twirling his gun and pretending to blow off the smoke – he always felt slightly euphoric when he managed to pull this trick off. 

Jesse blinked and suddenly the feeling of floating came back to him. Jesse looked down to see the boy staring up at him in shock, mouth hung open, still in the crouched down position Jesse was in seconds ago. 

“H-how?” the boy asked, barely managing to form words as his hands dropped limply to his sides, gun clattering to the floor. 

“Dunno,” Jesse replied with a shrug, “jus’ something I picked up along the way.” 

The boy’s mouth moved as if trying to form words, before eventually snapping shut. The boy took in a deep breath, lungs shuddering, as he shakily stood up. 

“Thank you,” he said eventually, looking him in the eye. 

“Jus’ paying back a debt,” Jesse muttered, pulling down the brim of his hat, unable to deal with the sincerity and gratitude in the other boy’s eyes. Instead, he chose to stick out his hand, “name’s Je-”

“No names,” the boy interrupted, holding his hand up in a gesture for Jesse to stop. “Please.” 

Jesse blinked. 

“Alrighty then.” 

There was an awkward silence as Jesse watched the boy stare off into space. He scuffed his shoe to fill the silence but found that his motion produced no sound. 

“You are real,” the boy finally announced, as if coming to a revelation. “There is no other way to explain–” the boy cut himself off, scowling as if he had committed a grave error. 

“You are not part of my imagination.” 

With that final statement, he turned on Jesse, levelling a glare at him so fierce that Jesse instinctively held up his hands to shield himself from it. 

“No siree, am not – I am very much my own person thank you very much,” Jesse replied hurriedly, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. When that didn’t work he tipped his hat as if in greeting which was apparently the right decision, because the other boy gave a derisive snort. 

“I was wondering why my brain conjured up a cowboy of all things,” Hanzo said. 

“Although,” he began, giving a pause to look Jesse up and down – and Jesse could just _ feel _ a burn coming on, the other boy looked like the type to take no names, “I do not know if it is stranger that someone would imagine you in that outfit or that you dress that way in real life.” 

“Ouch, darling,” Jesse exclaimed, clutching at his heart, pretending to faint, “how could ya say such a cruel thing to a man – after I saved ya as well!” 

And for the first time in his seventeen years, Jesse saw the other boy laugh. Jesse would like to say that it sounded like tinkling bells – but it was probably an ungainly chortle at best. But the way the other boy pursed his lips, trying to suppress it and the way he even turned away to hide it, as if he was embarrassed and Jesse knew instinctively that this was a sight that not many people had witnessed – it made him want to see it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Eventually the laughter died down, and the boy’s face returned to a neutral impasse. 

“I should call home,” he announced giving a tired sigh, before walking to a nearby corpse and crowching down to rustle through the pockets. After a few seconds he emerged victorious with a cell in hand. Just as he was about to dial, he paused

“Thank you, cowboy,” he said softly, looking Jesse square in the eye – with the same sincerity –and for an absurd second, Jesse felt like he wanted to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“'Twas nothing,” Jesse mumbled, scratching the back of his head, feeling bashful all of a sudden. “Wan’ me to keep you company while you wait?”

“That would be good,” the other boy said, and Jesse could faintly see the uptick in the corners of his mouth. 

Jesse sat down next to the boy and closed his eyes to rest them, but when he opened them, the sun was searing into his retinas and the air was thick with moisture. For a moment he felt a wild surge of panic at leaving the other boy alone, before his body remembered to breathe.

“Finally back are yer?” Rob growled, tinkering mindlessly on something Jesse couldn’t recognise. 

“Er.. sorry, zoned out,” Jesse said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Rob gave him an unconvinced look – but it was hard to tell with the dark goggles. “Jus’ daydreaming.” 

Rob gave an unimpressed harrumph, returning to his work. “Yer do tha’ a lot, boy.” 

Jesse gave a shrug, thinking that was the end of the conversation. He hoped that the other boy would forgive him for ditching him – it was not like he could control the whatever the hell was going on between them. 

He was wondering if the boy was in Japan – after all, the dude had pulled out a samurai sword – and was imagining saving enough money to go there one day when Rob’s voice cut through the air. 

“Jus’ don’ get shot daydreaming.” 

The next day, Gabriel Reyes had turned up guns blazing and offered him a deal.  


**Author's Note:**

> Why did it get cancelled :'(


End file.
